Let Me Tell You A Story
by unpredictablemary
Summary: When Hook finally finds Emma, he knows he has to make her trust him- but more than that, he has to make her believe. Picks up where 3x11 left off. Not spoiler free.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello there! I know you're all shocked this isn't an M/M fic- I've never written Once Upon A Time before, but after the midseason finale, I couldn't get it out of my head. I hope some of you DAers like it if you watch OUAT too, and if any OUAT fans are here, welcome and thanks for reading! This picks up immediately after the end of the last episode, the day that Hook comes to Emma's apartment._

* * *

Emma tucked Henry into bed and turned out the light. "Night, kid," she said, and she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Emma walked through the apartment, picking up the dirty dishes they'd left in the living room and trying to convince herself that this was a normal evening. She put the dishes in the sink and tidied up the kitchen. Then she walked to the door, and checked for the fourth time that it was locked. She stood there, her arms folded tightly over her chest, staring at it almost as if she expected someone to come through the door. Quietly, she walked up to it and looked through the peephole. The hallway was empty.

Of course it was.

She needed to calm down. That man had just been a vagabond from the street, a crazy homeless guy or something.

But there was something about him that rankled Emma. Something strange that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He didn't seem like a common bum.

And he'd known her name.

But Emma knew she hadn't met him before, and besides, she didn't even have the family he was so concerned about. He could've found the wrong Emma Swan, for all she knew. Or he could've read her name off the buzzer, and just been a crazy, desperate man off the street.

She flicked the lights off decisively, putting the matter out of her mind. But even so, she couldn't fall asleep that night.

* * *

Hook paced the sidewalk in the dark, still cursing himself. He had come all this way, and he had ruined it with his rash actions. But he'd had to try, hadn't he? How could he not try?

And how could it not have worked! He was still angry. He kicked a rock and watched it skitter down the concrete and come to a stop in front of a tree. But he knew he couldn't dwell on the kiss. He had to make a plan.

He didn't know how much time they had—not much, he was sure—but he was going to have to risk it. The only way this would work with Emma was if he took his time. He knew her too well to not know that she would be suspicious and guarded. He had expected it, but he hadn't truly planned for it. He had thought the kiss would work. He'd been a fool. He had _hoped _the kiss would work.

He had to regroup, and he had to take his time. Emma wasn't the one he should convince, either. The boy was his better shot. The boy would believe.

Hook could feel the weight of his bag of gold against his thigh, and he knew he had more than enough to get by in this world for some time. He had seen a pawn shop down the street; he knew what those were because of the crocodile. He would go there in the morning and find out how to change it into their money. Perversely, he wished he would find the crocodile there, whether as Mr. Gold or Rumpelstiltskin or the Dark One, whatever you wanted to call him—Hook would have taken him in any form at this point, and gladly. He let out a dry laugh. How times changed.

His plan formulated, Hook went back up the steps of her building and curled up in the doorway. He could hear cars and sirens, there seemed to be lights on everywhere and the air smelled like exhaust. Look at him, he thought with another laugh. What on earth had become of Captain Hook? He had never in a million years imagined his life taking these turns. The lengths he had gone to for… her.

The smile slid off Hook's face, and determination filled him again. It had taken him this long. He'd come all the way here. And he'd _found _her. He'd done it. Making it to her had been half the battle. He wasn't leaving her again. He would make her believe. He had to. _She_ had to.

Dropping his head onto his knees, Hook closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

After getting through the night without anyone trying to break in, Emma had awoken the next morning with a sense of relief, but a jumpiness had stayed with her the entire day. She had tried to shake it off; weird things happened in the city all the time, but for some reason, she couldn't. It had been in the back of her mind all day, and she couldn't keep her thoughts off it as she loaded the dishwasher after dinner that evening. Henry was doing homework at the kitchen table, and everything was quiet. Emma kept telling herself everything was fine.

Then the knock came. Emma jumped a foot in the air.

"Who's that?" Henry asked.

"I don't know," Emma said. "No one, probably."

Her heart pounding, she carefully walked to the door and peered through the peephole. She stiffened and pulled away from the door.

It was him. Or she thought it was him. He looked different, but it was the same face as the man from yesterday. Wasn't it? He was dressed so differently. Emma stared at the door, paralyzed by indecision. She reached into the hall closet and grabbed the baseball bat she kept there. She stared back at the door.

"I've come to apologize," a voice said from the other side, and Emma froze.

"I'm very sorry," he continued. "And maybe you're not there and I'm talking to nothing, in which case I'll feel like even more of an idiot than I already do… But I wanted to apologize about yesterday. I can explain, and… as we're to be neighbors, I'd like to introduce myself properly. I know we started off on the wrong foot."

The door flew open.

"_Neighbors?_" Emma said. "You're my neighbor?"

"Yes, I am. And," Hook's eyes fell to the baseball bat in her hands and he repressed the urge to laugh, "I can assure you you won't be needing that."

"We'll see about that," Emma said. She nodded her chin at him, not dropping her tough stance. "Well? You said you wanted to explain, explain."

She tried not to stare as she looked at him. His strange garb from the day before had been replaced by khaki pants and a knit sweater. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in the crook of his arm, his hand in his pocket. In regular clothes, he looked perfectly normal… he looked better than normal. He was actually kind of uncommonly good-looking, Emma thought. She tightened her grip on the bat.

The man laughed self-deprecatingly and hung his head. "All right. The thing is… You see, I'm just coming off a bad break-up. It was really terrible, and I haven't been quite myself. The doctor put me on an antidepressant, and I'm afraid you witnessed the side effects of it yesterday."

"Huh." Emma stared at him, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. He didn't seem like he was, not fully, yet at the same time he seemed extremely sincere. She frowned.

"So, needless to say, I did not take the medication again, and I am back to normal. I'm terribly embarrassed, and I hope you'll forgive me. My name's Killian," he said, holding his hand out to Emma. "Killian Jones."

Emma shook his hand suspiciously. "And your costume? You looked like Jack Sparrow or something yesterday. Did the antidepressant make you do that, too?"

"Aye, it's an old… costume, as you say, that I found when I moved. I was unpacking yesterday and I thought it might make me feel better to put it on. Then I thought I should introduce myself to my new neighbors. It was unfortunately timed."

"Uh-huh." Emma nodded. "Okay. So you live…"

"In number twelve. Just there. But I promise I am very normal and sane, and I mean you no harm. In fact, to prove it to you, and apologize, I wanted to give you these flowers, and invite you over for a house-warming dinner."

Emma laughed. "At your apartment? Yeah, right. Good night."

She started to shut the door, but he stuck his hand out.

"Wait," he said. "I really don't want you thinking I'm a crazy person. I feel terrible about it all. I've never done anything like that before, I swear. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Emma looked at him. He wasn't lying. She knew he wasn't lying. And his explanation did make sense, even if it was a little weird. And for some reason… some reason she couldn't understand, since he put every fiber of her being on high alert, her gut was telling her to trust him. She didn't mean for the words to come out of her mouth, but they did.

"When's dinner?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello! Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter. I've gotten totally caught up in this story and I'm so glad you liked the beginning. One note- I decided to call him Killian when the story is from Emma's POV and Hook when I'm writing from his POV. Just to distinguish between Hook as we know him, and the perception Emma has of this strange man named Killian. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"So I don't know," Emma finished up. "I told him we would come to dinner, but now I'm wondering if that's incredibly stupid."

"Maybe he really did have a horrible breakup," her coworker Liz said with a shrug. "That can make people crazy, you know that."

Emma laughed. "And make him assault his new neighbor? It's still a little weird." She took a sip of her cocoa, frowning. "But he just seemed so _sincere_. I can't figure it out."

"Well, you might as well have dinner with him and see. Besides, you know you could take him if you had to."

They both laughed and clinked mugs.

"Amen to that," Emma said.

* * *

"Come on, Henry," Emma said a few hours later, handing her son his sweater and pushing him toward the door. "We're just going to go over and have dinner and come back. It's going to be quick. Just to meet our new neighbor."

"Okay," Henry shrugged. He preceded Emma out the door and she locked it behind her.

"I think he's a little weird, Henry, so we're just going to see how it goes, okay? If it's weird, we'll leave early."

"What do you mean?" Henry asked. To Emma's dismay, his face had lit up. He loved anything strange or fantastical. Emma figured it was a phase he was going through. "Weird how?"

"Just a little… off. But who knows, maybe he's normal. Come on."

She knocked on the door, trepidation collecting in her stomach. Killian opened it and ushered them in.

"I'm so glad you could make it," he said. "I've made a feast."

Emma didn't smile. "Thanks for having us. This is my son, Henry."

"Hello, Henry," Killian said, bending down to shake his hand. "I'm Killian."

"Nice to meet you," Henry said politely.

"Right this way," Killian said.

* * *

Hook's heart was pounding as he let them into the apartment. (He had been incredibly lucky to overhear some people in the hallway talking about how the occupants of number twelve were on vacation. He'd broken in and found an itinerary for a fifteen-day cruise to Alaska sitting on the counter and a spare key in a flower pot next to the door. People in this realm were so stupid—but he would be quite comfortable here for the next couple of days.)

Emma looked so gorgeous—and so suspicious. Hook knew he shouldn't be nervous around her, not still, but—well, it wasn't really _her_, was it? Or at least she didn't know it was. And he had to tread carefully. One false step could ruin the whole thing.

"Right this way," he said, waving them into the kitchen. Too late, he realized he'd waved with the wrong hand.

"Whoa," Emma said, stopping in her tracks. "What is that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Hook held up his hook and looked at it. "It's my hook. It tends to throw people off, but you'll get used to it."

"Why the hell do you have a hook?"

Hook shrugged. "I lost my hand, and they gave me a hook."

"Cool!" Henry said. "Can I see it?"

Emma laughed scornfully. "Who gave you a hook? The doctor? I don't think most hospitals keep them in stock."

"Well… they did, at that hospital. I was overseas at the time."

"And you never wanted to get a prosthetic hand or something? You'd rather walk around looking like Captain Hook all the time?"

He winced slightly at her words but kept his tone light. "Makes for a bit of fun. Perfect on Halloween. But I'll try to keep my hand in my pocket."

"Okay, this is too weird," Emma said. "I'm sorry. We're leaving."

"No, Mom!" Henry said. "Come on. He made all this food."

"Aye. I did," Hook said, giving Emma his most charming smile, though he had done no such thing and had in fact gotten it all in the pre-made section at a Whole Foods he'd stumbled into earlier that day. "Don't judge a man by his hook."

She looked at him. "How'd you lose it, anyway?"

"Most people don't ask questions like that when they first meet someone," Hook said, leading his guests to the table. "I had an accident. I used to work on ships, and things like this happen sometimes. I was unlucky."

"I think it's awesome," Henry said as he sat down. "It's just like in _Peter Pan_."

"Uh, right," Hook said, forcing a smile onto his face. _Be normal! _He looked up at Emma and Henry with a cheerful expression. "Let's eat, shall we?"

* * *

An hour later, Emma was watching Henry laugh as Killian regaled him with tales of Ireland and world travels and life on a ship. He'd been telling stories all through dinner. He only must be about Emma's age, she thought, but it sure seemed like he had traveled a lot. Despite the hook, he did seem fairly normal after all. He hadn't asked many questions about Emma and Henry, either, which reassured her a little bit. She'd been watching him closely, and her instincts still told her that he was okay, and Emma was rarely wrong about people. But still, she felt like he was hiding _something,_ even if her gut told her she could trust him.

But right now he was simply being a charming host. It was true that if not for their alarming first meeting, Emma wouldn't have thought twice about hanging out with Killian. In fact, she was aware that she might have enjoyed it, but she stopped that train of thought before it wandered too far.

"I want to sail a ship," Henry said. "How cool would that be? Mom, can we get a boat?"

"Definitely not," Emma laughed.

"Aw, man," Henry said. He looked back at Killian, undeterred in his enthusiasm. "Tell me more."

"You like stories," Killian chuckled.

"Henry's always had quite the imagination," Emma said, ruffling her son's hair.

"Well, how about a real story?" Killian said. "Not about my life or ships. But with lots of adventure, I promise."

"You know some good ones?" Henry asked.

Killian bent his head so he was eye level with the boy. "The best," he said. "Would you like to hear?" He glanced up at Emma.

"Okay, one, and then it's time for bed." She rolled her eyes, not sure why she was agreeing to this- but then, why had she agreed to this dinner at all?

"All right. As your mother wishes," Killian said to Henry. "It's best to get comfortable for this one. Come on."

With another glance at Emma, he led them to the living room and settled down on one of the couches. Emma followed warily. He was wearing a sweater again, a forest green cowl neck this time, and he looked far too attractive in it. He was obviously a real ladies' man, whatever he said about his big break-up. She sat down in an oversized armchair across from him and pulled Henry up next to her.

"Ready? Now. Once upon a time, there was a princess. Her name was Snow White."

"I know this one," Henry said. "Everyone knows this story."

"No, you don't, lad," Killian said. "Just listen.

"Snow White had a mortal enemy, the Evil Queen. I'm sure you can imagine that well enough. The woman was ruthless, and she wanted nothing more in life than to get rid of Snow White and Prince Charming—revenge, as she saw it, for something that had happened when Snow was young.

"Regina—that's the queen—got a curse, a terrible curse, from Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One. More about him later. This curse would take everyone in the Enchanted Forest to a new world where Regina reigned. They would all lose their memories, forget who they were, and be doomed to an insipid, monotonous life for the rest of eternity."

His voice was captivating, and Emma found herself drawn in against her will. Henry's chin dropped into his hand as he listened, mesmerized already.

"Regina cast the curse, and it rolled over the Enchanted Forest like a dark, wretched cloud. The next thing the Evil Queen knew, she was in a tiny town in Maine, somewhere no one had ever heard of, somewhere that had never existed before, that couldn't be found on any map. All the inhabitants of the forest were there with her, but she was the only one who remembered anything. Snow White had become a meek schoolteacher named Mary Margaret. Prince Charming was David now, in a loveless relationship with another woman. Regina was the mayor, and everyone bowed down to her. They did whatever she said. And for 28 years, they all lived the blandest life possible in the little town of Storybrooke.

"But Snow White and Prince Charming had had a baby. Just before the curse was cast. And this baby, she was the Savior."

As Killian spoke, he looked over at Emma. There was so much intensity in his eyes, Emma was almost scared again. He continued the story, looking back and forth between Emma and Henry as he told about a baby who had come across worlds, who had grown up and had a son, and the son who had figured out the curse and brought his mother to Storybrooke. Every time she and Killian locked eyes, Emma squirmed a little under his gaze. She definitely wasn't imagining whatever she saw there. But what was it?

* * *

Hook had gotten all the way through the breaking of the curse and had just arrived at the good part of the story—the part where he showed up—when Emma interrupted.

"All right, I think that's enough for tonight," she said suddenly. "Henry has school in the morning. Thanks for having us. Say good night, Henry."

Hook pressed his lips together. His hand went to his pocket, and he fingered the magic bean he kept there. No, not yet. He would give it one more day. They had that much time at least.

"Do we have to?" Henry asked.

"Your mother is right," Hook said, standing up. "It's getting late."

"Will you tell me the rest soon?"

"Anytime, lad."

"Well, thank you for having us," Emma said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "It was very nice. The food was delicious."

"Ah, you admit it," Hook said, and in spite of herself, Emma laughed. "See, I told you I'm not a villain."

Emma raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Good night. Say thank you, Henry."

"Thank you," Henry said. "You tell awesome stories."

"You should come back again sometime. I'll tell more," Hook said, leaning against the door frame as he looked at Emma.

Emma eyed him warily. "We'll see," she said. "Bye."

"Bye, Killian!" Henry waved.

"Bye, lad. Good night, Emma."

Hook watched them go, returning Emma's small wave. How characteristic of her that wave was. He closed the door slowly and leaned his head against it. "Emma," he whispered again, with a deep sigh. "Oh, Emma."

* * *

_In reality I am pretty sure Hook would just try to convince Emma of the truth, open up a portal, grab her and Henry, and explain later instead of wasting days in New York, but my story is going to explore a different path, so we'll suspend any disbelief :) I'm also pretty sure Emma wouldn't be too keen on hanging out at a random man's apartment, but I had to balance her suspicion with Hook's urgency, and the need to move the story along. Also, I know it might be a little questionable to have Hook be in possession of a magic bean, but the type of portal is immaterial to this story so I just decided a bean would be easiest even if it isn't the most accurate. Feel free to let me know your thoughts, I hope you enjoyed it. I have lots more already written so you can look forward to things picking up after Christmas :) Happy holidays and thanks so much for reading, following and reviewing! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the slow update- I'm back! Here you go!_

* * *

"Hi, Mom!"

"Hi, kid!" Emma hugged Henry with her free arm and gave him a kiss on top of his head. "I'm home. I got some good stuff to eat. Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah. Guess what? I invited Killian over for dinner!"

Emma nearly dropped her bag of groceries. "You what?"

Henry shrugged. "That's what you're supposed to do, right, when someone has you over? I thought we should return the favor. And he was so cool."

"Yeah, I know he's cool, kid. But we don't really know him," Emma said, setting the bag down on the counter and starting to unload it.

"But we could get to know him," Henry said, grinning at his mother. "I don't think he's met very many people around here yet. He seemed really happy to be invited."

"Yeah, I bet he did," Emma muttered. "Well, listen, we'll have him over tonight because it would be rude not to, but in the future don't go extending dinner invitations to people without asking me first, okay?"

"I know," Henry said. "Sorry."

"That's okay. Help me put the rest of this away." Emma turned back to the fridge and busied herself putting away produce. She felt unsettled at the idea that they would have to see Killian again, and she didn't know why. It wasn't just because he was a stranger. It had to do with that look in his eyes she'd seen the night before. Something about it rattled her, and she couldn't put her finger on what.

* * *

Bless the boy. He'd shown up at his door, enthusiastic as ever, and arranged it all better than Hook could've done himself. Hook grinned at himself in the mirror and straightened his shirt. He actually didn't mind these clothes as much as he'd thought he would. They were surprisingly comfortable, and he thought this button-down shirt showed off his upper body rather to advantage.

He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for seeing Emma. All the technological contraptions they had in this realm confused him, but he sure could've used one of those cell phone things. He would've given a lot to be able to communicate instantaneously with someone back home right about now. He was used to operating solo, of course, but some support navigating this situation wouldn't be amiss, he thought.

Of course, this time, he was working alone out of necessity, Hook reminded himself, and his blood went cold again as he thought of the danger the Charmings were about to be confronted with. He had to be careful not to scare Emma away, but he also couldn't lose his sense of urgency.

Hook hadn't been there the first time Emma had been told about her past and their world, but he knew it had taken a long time to convince her of the truth. She was too practical, too suspicious; she worked only on concrete proof. Hook loved her for that, but he didn't have time for it.

She took his breath away when she answered the door. She looked as annoyed as ever, but it only made the grin on Hook's face wider. After a year of being apart, of wondering if they would ever see each other again, it still hit him right in the stomach to see her, to be in her presence. God, how he wished he could pull her into his arms.

"Come in," Emma said dully. She walked away from the door and left him to follow. Ordinarily, he would've made a quip about her gracious hostess skills, but he reminded himself that he was trying to get her to let down her guard, so he quietly closed the door behind him and followed her inside.

* * *

Killian started on the story towards the end of dinner, and Emma got up and began cleaning partway through. Tonight it was about what had happened after the curse had been broken. The family started on a new series of adventures that involved the Evil Queen's mother, Captain Hook, and a lot of people wanting to kill each other, and also wanting to get back to their magical land, from what Emma understood.

When Emma glanced up at the clock, she realized an hour had passed without her even knowing it. Whoever he was, this guy was good at telling stories. And he had a really nice voice. He could narrate books on tape, Emma thought. Did he even have a job? Maybe he was a writer. Maybe he had made this entire thing up as a plot for a novel and was testing it out on them. That would make it a little less weird, she thought. Sort of.

She watched them from the kitchen, and sometimes Killian glanced in her direction, knowing she was listening. As he spoke, that same unsettling intensity filled in his eyes again. Every time he looked at her, Emma wanted to shiver.

Like the night before, she cut the story off when it got late. Henry needed to go to bed and she didn't want Killian sticking around, anyway. She sent Henry to get ready for bed and walked Killian to the door.

"Thanks for having me, love," he said. "I do hope I've redeemed myself by now."

Emma gave him a look. "You're working on it."

"Henry likes the story."

"He does," Emma said slowly. "But why…" She stopped, thinking better of it, and pressed her mouth together. "Never mind."

"What is it, love?" Hook came to a stop and turned to face her.

Emma stopped and looked at him, narrowing her eyes. "Why do you look at me like that? When you were telling the story, you were looking at me like…"

Hook tipped his mouth in a half-smile. "I guess I just got caught up in the story, love."

Emma nodded, still studying him with her calculated gaze. His eyes had lost their intensity; he had a lazy expression on his face now. But still it gripped her.

"Right," she said.

He grinned at her. "Good night, Swan."

Emma frowned. "Good night."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! I love hearing your thoughts and I have more coming soon! (Also, I don't think many of you are also reading my DA fic Dernier Cri, but if you are, know that I am working on it and will update soon!)_


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Swan."

Emma jumped. She turned around to see Killian standing in the doorway, a garbage bag in his hand. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the trash chute.

"Hey, Killian."

"How's it going?"

"Fine." Emma lifted up her last trash bag and dumped it down the chute, letting the door slam after it. "How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you. Just taking out the trash on this fine Saturday morning."

"Right." Emma squeezed past him so they could switch places. He didn't move to give her more room, instead letting her brush up against him.

"Thanks for letting me hang out with Henry," Killian said, dragging his trash bag to the chute with a little difficulty. "I know you don't like me very much. But it's nice to know someone in this city."

Emma rolled her eyes and stuck her hands in her back pockets, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't not _like _you, it's just…"

"We got off on the wrong foot, I know. But haven't I shown myself to be an upstanding gentleman since?" Killian spread his hands out, a playful smile on his face. "Anyway, I hope I haven't been giving Henry nightmares. He seems to like my stories."

"No, nothing gives Henry nightmares. And he does. They're… good stories."

"So you like them too?"

Emma shrugged. "Can't help but listen. I was never big on fairy tales, but yeah, I guess they're good."

Killian laughed and turned to the trash chute. "I think you'll be big on this one, love." He pulled at the handle, but it didn't open. He stared at the door. "How on earth does this thing work?" He knocked on the door.

Emma stared at him. "You have to turn the handle."

Killian jiggled the handle. It didn't open.

"No, not like that," Emma said. "God, it's not that hard, here." She pushed past him and did it herself, ignoring the fact that they were inches apart from each other in this small space. His chest nearly brushed her back as she moved. "Now you put your trash in." She picked up the garbage bag, but stuff started to spill out.

"God, what the hell? Have you never used a garbage bag before? You have to tie it closed."

"Sorry," Killian said. He bent down to pick up the garbage at the same time as she did. Their hands bumped, and Emma stood up quickly. Killian shoved the rest of the trash into the bag.

"Now I… tie it," he said, holding the plastic handles and staring at them as he pulled them into a knot.

"Good job, genius," Emma said. "But you don't need such a complicated knot. That's probably good."

"Oh, right," Killian said. "Well, this one won't come untied."

Suddenly Emma started to laugh, and Killian laughed, too as he swung the bag into the chute. He grinned, looking down at her.

Emma blinked. She knew this should probably be another thing to add to the weird list, but there was something sweet about him, about the careful way he'd tied the trash bag. She felt a pull as their eyes met, almost like a magnet was drawing her to him. He sighed very softly, and Emma felt her breath getting shallow.

"You're blocking the door, love," Killian whispered.

She cleared her throat and took a step back. "Yeah. Sorry." Emma started down the hall. When she got to her apartment, she looked back and waved.

"See you around," she said.

"See you tonight," he replied, walking backwards away from her. When she made a surprised face, he laughed and held out his arms in a wide shrug. "We have to finish the story!"

Emma shook her head, but she chuckled in spite of herself.

* * *

So Emma wasn't surprised when Killian showed up at her door after dinner with a sheepish smile and a flirtatious "The boy wanted to hear the rest of the story." She let him in and Henry led him to the couch. Emma stayed in the kitchen, cleaning as she kept an eye on them. She couldn't help hearing the story.

Tonight it was about new people who had arrived in Storybrooke, new enemies from the outside who wanted to destroy everything—destroy magic. Killian carried them through the tale until they landed in Neverland.

Emma made cocoa and brought it to the living room. She swallowed when she saw them, the both of them tucked under a blanket together on the couch. Henry was gazing up at Killian, and Killian had a grin on his face and his hands in the air as he spun the story. When Emma appeared, they both looked at up at her with identical eager expressions on their faces.

_This is what it might have looked like, if Henry had had a father_…. But she couldn't think such stupid thoughts. And especially not about this guy.

Hook's breath caught when he saw Emma in the doorway. This was how it could've been, he thought, if they'd been born in different times and different circumstances… if not for Pan's curse… if they were normal. Emma in her bare feet, standing in the hallway looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, and he tucked in with Henry, telling a bedtime story.

Good God. He needed to get a grip.

Emma cleared her throat.

"I brought you guys some cocoa," she said. "Wi—"

"With cinnamon," Killian said, looking up at her.

Emma stared at him. "Yeah. How did you know?"

He shrugged. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Emma set the mugs down on the coffee table and went to the bathroom as Killian resumed the tale; she was feeling a bit of fairy tale fatigue.

Maybe this was good for Henry, she thought as she washed her hands, staring at her own reflection in the mirror. Having a male role model around. As much as she didn't want to admit it, and as happy as she and Henry were, she knew he had missed out on having men in his life.

Emma heard her phone ringing, and she went to her bedroom to answer. It was Liz.

"How's it going?"

"It's weird," Emma said quietly. "He's here now."

"He is?"

"He's finishing the story he started telling Henry the other night. They're hanging out in the living room."

"Huh," Liz said. "He's still nice?"

"Yeah, he seems normal. But I mean, isn't it kind of weird?" Emma said. "I've been thinking about it all night and I just can't figure it out. He shows up under strange circumstances, wants to get to know us out of the blue, befriends Henry… And he starts telling these crazy fairy tales. And now Henry is getting obsessed with these stories, like really obsessed. He keeps talking about the Enchanted Forest as if it's a real place, and I saw him drawing Snow and Charming on the back of his notebook yesterday. That's another thing, who calls Snow White just 'Snow'? I've never heard anyone say that. It's like Killian knows these people, almost, the way he talks. And sometimes when he's telling a story, he gets so sad all of a sudden. Like it's personal. He seems like a man who's really lost something, you know?"

Emma was quiet for a moment, and then she shrugged. "But he doesn't seem to be crazy. I mean, I know he could be luring us in in order to murder us later or something, but he seems totally normal. Plenty of people are a little zany, right? And antidepressants really do have a bad effect on some people."

"Maybe he's just a sad, nerdy, dumped guy in a new city," Liz said. "And he wants to make some friends. Telling fairy tales isn't exactly having good game, but it probably cheers him up to hang out with Henry. I don't think you should worry."

"Even though he kissed me when we met? And he was dressed like… well, like Captain Hook?"

"Remember when Juliette went on medication? She was insane for like, two weeks. It doesn't work for everybody. You're so suspicious of people, Emma," Liz said. "Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, the reason you're trying so hard to find something wrong with him is because you actually like him?"

"Oh, God," Emma said. "Please. Don't even go there."

"I mean, you said he's good-looking. And he seems really nice. He seems to like Henry. It's been a while since you even hooked up with someone… I'm just saying."

"That is not what this is about," Emma said. "Seriously."

"Okay," Liz said, raising her eyebrows. "But that's what you _always_ say, whenever you meet an eligible guy..."

"Okay, wow, this conversation is so over," Emma said. "I should go anyway. I don't like leaving Henry alone with him."

"But you said yourself he isn't lying. And you're never wrong."

"I know, but… still. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for checking in."

Emma hung up and started back to the living room, but she slowed in the hall, thinking about what Liz had said. She hovered outside the doorway to the living room for a second, listening.

Killian's voice was low and seductive. "What if I told you… I could take you to that world?"

"Really? To the Enchanted Forest?" Henry's voice, eager and excited, floated through the door.

"Aye," Killian said. "I could."

Emma walked into the room. "Okay, that's enough," she said sharply. "Henry, bed."

Her son looked at her with pleading eyes, but he knew better than to argue. He hung his head. "Night, Killian. Night, Mom."

"Brush your teeth," Emma said, catching him on his way out and kissing him on top of the head.

Killian spread out on the sofa and looked up at her with an expression of lazy contentment. "Eavesdropping?" he said. "I didn't think you were one for fairy tales, Emma."

"I'm not," she said. "Which is exactly why I don't want you saying things like that to Henry. He's getting obsessed with these stories. I don't want him to start thinking they're real." She picked up Henry's cocoa mug. "Why would you say that, anyway?"

Killian shrugged. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me." He drained his mug and handed it to her.

Emma rolled her eyes and took the dishes to the kitchen. "Do you always talk in riddles?"

"Only sometimes." He appeared on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"You talk like you know these people," Emma said. "Your stories. Where did they come from, anyway? Did you make them up?"

"No," Killian said with a small smile. "I did not make them up." He watched Emma carefully, waiting for her next line of attack. It was harder than he'd imagined, pretending not to be himself. And it was harder than he'd imagined to be in the same room with her, unable to touch her or flirt with her or even talk to her as he once would have. She'd never been _his _to begin with, so Hook had figured this little excursion to rescue her would feel no different, even if she didn't remember him. He'd been wrong. There was no closeness between them here, no familiarity— but worse than that, no trust. It left an aching chasm that he felt in his very bones.

And yet he still felt an accord between them. There was still a spark. Even she, even the curse and even the false memories couldn't stamp that out. It was a sense of mutual understanding, an underlying certainty, a warmth. It was both smaller and greater than everything else, undefinable yet bigger than either of them. It was there, he knew it was, and it gave him hope.

Emma set the mugs in the sink and turned to face him, placing her hands on the counter. "Why are you even here? It's still weird, you know. You show up, you know my name, you _kiss_ me, then you ingratiate yourself into our lives and start filling my son's head with these… stories. And my _family_ is in _danger_? What the hell was that about? I probably _should_ call the police. For all I know you're a crazy ex-con."

"Then why do you keep letting me come back?"

Emma raised her chin, leveling her eyes with his. "Because I know I could take you in a fight in a second."

To her surprise, Killian laughed.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said. "Just, I know you could." He looked down, smiling, and when he glanced back up at her, she saw that look in his eyes again. That look that tugged at her somewhere deep, deep down, the look that seemed to speak to something far beyond the hours they'd spent together in her living room. Emma still didn't know what it was, or why it seemed familiar to her, and she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to regain some sense of control.

"Look, love. Do you want to know the real reason I'm here? I'll tell you. But you have to promise me a few things first."

"What's that?"

"You will let me finish the entire story. You will at least try to believe what I'm saying. And you won't call the cops," he said.

"Okay," Emma said slowly. "And if I tell you to get out?"

Killian held up his hands. "I'll get out." He gave her a stern look. "But you have to acknowledge that it is possible that there might be things beyond your realm of memory. Beyond your perception of reality. Things that… there might not be concrete proof of. You just have to acknowledge the possibility. That's how we're going to start."

Emma was silent, staring at him with a hard look in her eyes that Hook knew too well. She was trying to decide whether to give him a chance or to throw him out on the street.

He held up his hands again. "I promise I'm not crazy. I just want you to believe that for a second. Just listen, love."

"Stop calling me 'love.'"

"Sorry," Killian said airily. "Old habit." He walked back toward the living room and glanced over his shoulder, an expression of delight on his face. "Coming?"

Reluctantly, Emma followed him, and they sat down on the couch.

"Now," Killian said. "I'm going to tell you everything."

* * *

_Thanks for reading :) Review?_


	5. Chapter 5

"So you're saying these stories are true," Emma said. "You're saying that Prince Charming and Snow White and Rumplestiltskin—that all these people exist."

"Yes." Hook watched her carefully, holding his breath. This was the crucial moment.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Emma asked. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Hook said, "it does involve you."

"How? Even if all this fairy tale stuff were real, which it's not, there's no way it could… have to do with _me_."

"This is the part where you have to acknowledge the possibility that you don't know everything, love," Hook said quietly. "And that maybe the world isn't as it seems. Just… have an open mind, all right?"

Emma sighed impatiently. "This is really weird, you know."

"Open mind? You promised to listen to me in full."

"Fine, so keep talking." She folded her arms across her chest with a glare.

Hook took a measured breath. "Once upon a time, a baby was transported here from another realm."

"Yeah, you told me about her," Emma interrupted. "The 'Savior,'" she said, making air quotes with her fingers.

Hook gave her a stern look. "I told you about the Savior, but I didn't tell you everything about her."

"Okay. Sorry." Emma settled back on the couch, a look on her face that made it clear she thought she was indulging him.

"The baby— she was, as you said, the Savior. And she came through in a tree trunk, and came out in a forest. And she was found on the side of a road."

Emma shifted, but she said nothing. Hook, leaning his arms on his legs, looked up at her as he continued.

"She was put into the foster care system. She went from home to home, always wondering what could have happened to make her parents give her up. She felt unwanted, an orphan. As she grew up, she decided she operated best alone. But one day she met someone, a thief, and they began working together. They fell in love. But they got in trouble, and he let her take the fall for his crime. In prison, she found out she was pregnant."

"What are you doing?" Emma had gone stiff, alarm plain on her face as she stared at him. "Why are you saying this?"

"Wait," Hook said. "This is where your story differs from mine. She gave the baby up. Eleven years later, he found her. And he was carrying a book of tales. The very tales I've told Henry over the last few days.

"The boy took her back to Storybrooke, as you know. Everything happened just as I told it. But I didn't finish the story with Henry. There's more."

Hook took a deep breath and rubbed his fingers over his jaw. This part was hard to think about, let alone talk about. He placed his hands on his thighs, steadying himself, and forced himself to look into her eyes.

"Pan had set a new curse upon Storybrooke. You heard that part. Well, after Rumplestiltskin killed him, the curse was still coming. Regina had to stop it. She was the only one who could. But to do it… she had to sacrifice something. She had to act selflessly. She had to give up the thing she loved most."

"The son?" Emma asked.

"Aye. The son. She had to let him go with his mother. Regina could never see him again. And when she did her magic, it was going to bring everybody home. All of them would go back to the Enchanted Forest… but the boy would stay in this realm. He was born here. His mother, who had escaped the curse once before, could stay with him, but everyone else had to go back. Storybrooke would disappear forever, and with it, their memories. The Savior and her son would forget everything that had happened. And so as a parting gift, Regina gave them good memories. Their past wouldn't be real, but their future would, she said.

"She made it so that the Savior had never given up her son. So she had changed her mind at the last minute, in that prison hospital, and taken him, and they had had a good, loving life together. So everyone had to say goodbye, Snow, Charming, Regina, Baelfire, Hook, all of them. And then Emma and Henry got in her car, and they drove away from Storybrooke. Everyone else was transported to the Enchanted Forest, and within seconds, the Savior and her boy had forgotten everything. They were just a mother and a son, living in New York."

"You're saying this is actually _real_?" Emma said in a whisper, trying to keep her voice down. "What are you saying? This is insane."

"I know it sounds insane," Hook said, holding a hand up. "Believe me, it feels a little insane. But what I am saying is… this _is_ real, Emma. And it's no coincidence I'm here, and telling this story to you and your son."

"No coincidence… But you're not saying—" Emma stared at him in horror. She couldn't complete the thought. It was too absurd for words.

"Aye. You are the Savior, Emma," Hook said, as serious as she was incredulous. "Henry is the boy. Snow and Charming are your parents, and I am Killian Jones, also known as Captain Hook."

"No," Emma said. She shook her head. "No. I knew you were crazy. Get out."

"Emma—"

"Out!" She was on her feet, pointing fiercely to the door. "No way. Leave."

"Swan, wait!" Hook stood too, his face only inches from hers. "How else would I have found you? Why else would I be here? How could I know about you and Henry?"

"I don't know, because you're some sort of delusional stalker!"

"How else could I know about Neal? How else could I know what happened between you two, or where Henry was born? Please, Swan. I've been trying to figure out a way back to you for a year. I crossed realms to get here. Your parents need you. You have to believe."

_You have to believe_. Those were words Emma had heard before. She stilled, breathing hard, her mind whirring. He looked so earnest—and there was that pain again. The sorrow in his eyes, the bare honest expression on his face. It wasn't a lie. Or at least, _he_ believed his words to be true.

And there was something else. Something that tugged at her from very far away. Something that told her to trust him. She thought back to what Liz had said about her being attracted to him, and tried to dismiss it, but she couldn't completely. There was something there, a little tug, and it was the reason she hadn't kicked him out of her apartment by now.

It didn't make any sense.

Unless…

"Emma, you are the Savior. Regina gave you false memories. That's what all this is," he said, waving a hand at their surroundings. "I don't know how else to tell you. I tried to break it to you as gently as I could, but no matter how or when I said it, it was going to be hard for you to believe. I know you have no reason to trust me, but… please. Trust me, Swan."

Emma wrenched her eyes away from his and walked a few steps away. "Look, even if your story is true, I can't be the Savior! This is impossible. This is all completely… batshit. And I could never be the savior of anything."

"Yes, I know, love. You're not a savior, you're not even a hero, you're just an orphan and so on. The problem is, you've been through this struggle to accept your fate before, and we really don't have time for it now." Hook was behind her, and he grabbed Emma's wrist, forcing her to look at him. "Look. If you don't listen to me, I'm going to throw a bean in the ground, open up a portal and drag you and Henry back to the forest with me, all right? Maybe that'll convince you. We don't have any time to lose and I've already wasted enough of it trying to make you trust me. So we can talk, or we can go."

Emma stared at him, and after a moment she pulled her arm out of his grip. She opened her mouth as if to argue, and then she stopped.

"How did you know about the cinnamon and cocoa?"

Hook's expression softened. "I've seen you drink it. Your mother loves it, and that's why you do. Last time, with the other curse, that was one thing that survived, too. Mary Margaret loved cinnamon and cocoa, even when she didn't know who she was. You still inherited it from her, even though you'd never met. You see? There is still a small part of the real Emma buried inside you. There might be other little things, I don't know. When Snow and Charming were under the curse, they still fell in love with each other, even though they couldn't remember who they were. Because those people were still there."

Emma stared at him. "When you kissed me…"

Hook looked down and laughed sadly. "True love's kiss," he said. "It breaks any curse. Although it's never broken this one."

"You were in love with her. The Savior," Emma said slowly.

"Aye," Hook said. He looked up, meeting Emma's eyes. "I still am."

Emma stared at him. "You really think I'm her. You think I'm this other Emma."

"No, love," Hook said slowly. He met her eyes. "I know you're the same."

Emma's breath caught. She felt something inside her constrict, and she couldn't move her eyes away from his. She tried to find some answers in his eyes, but nothing was there except hope and fear. And love. She didn't know how, but she could tell it was love. She felt dizzy.

_Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? _

But it was absurd. Emma cleared her throat and shook her head again.

"Look, I don't know if this is true or not," she said. "But you've found the wrong person. Whatever your weird history is with this Savior chick, it's not me."

"It is you," Hook said. "Emma. What about your baby blanket?" he asked suddenly. "Knitted, white, with 'Emma' embroidered on the corner. How else would I know about that? Because you're the Savior, Emma Swan. Your name is known everywhere in our land. And everyone misses you terribly."

At the mention of her blanket, Emma's blood went cold. How did he know? This crossed a line; she was suddenly seized with terror.

For a moment, she had wondered if this could be real. There was just something about this man in front of her. His story had… tugged at her heartstrings or something. But reality snapped her awake. She had to get him out of here. He was dangerous, and she should never have let him stay in the first place. How fast could she get to her gun if she needed it? Emma looked down and realized her hands were shaking. She swallowed and looked him in the eye.

"You have the wrong Emma," she said again, forcing her voice not to waver. "I'm sorry. I said I would listen, and I did. But this isn't me. I don't know what strange games you play with the girls you date, but you have the wrong girl. I think you should go."

Hook pressed his lips together, exhaling in frustration. It would do no good to argue with her now. And he couldn't take her through the portal without Henry, and somehow he thought she would murder him if he went storming through the apartment to find Henry's bedroom. He had frightened her enough already. No, he would go home for now, and do it in the morning. He would do as she asked and leave, and maybe she would trust him more tomorrow.

"As you wish," he said. Hook got up and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned back to Emma.

"I'm sorry if I've upset you, Swan. But you've got to know this is true." His voice turned low and serious, his eyes locked on hers. "The last time we saw each other, right before we went back to the forest and you lost your memory, I promised you that not a day would go by when I didn't think of you. And you said, 'Good.' I didn't lie. I've been to hell and back for you, Swan. And I will get you home."

* * *

Emma leaned against the door after he'd gone. She was shaking. This couldn't be true—although she wasn't sure what she was more scared of, it being true, or it not being true and Killian being some sort of deranged murderer who had concocted this entire story about her and her son. Either way, she was seriously unsettled.

Maybe he was just messing with her, she thought as she went to bed, trying to calm herself down. Maybe this was his weird way of trying to flirt with her. Maybe he thought it was funny, or it was part of the story. But he had seemed so serious. And he hadn't been lying. That was the thing that disturbed her most. She _always_ knew when someone was lying. And he wasn't.

It was true that she'd always felt that she'd had a bad memory. She'd thought it had started after Henry was born, that having a baby had been such a whirlwind and the time had passed so quickly that it all blended together. Yet it had always bothered her how much more clearly she remembered things from her childhood, from her time with Neal, than she did from during Henry's life. It just had always seemed like things had always been the way they were—she couldn't exactly remember when she'd bought this apartment, or how she'd gotten her job, or even little things like Henry's first day of kindergarten. It was all fuzzy. She'd always thought it was getting older, being stressed out. Could it possibly be that Killian was right?

Of course it couldn't. What was she thinking? It was absolutely ludicrous. She knew it was. Stuff like this didn't happen. It was impossible. And yet… What if it wasn't?

* * *

Hook was leaning on the kitchen counter with his head in his hands. He kept going over it in his mind, but he was just thinking in circles. Perhaps he had gone about it all wrong. This was proving harder than he'd thought it would be.

No, it was exactly as hard as he'd thought it would be, he corrected with a bitter laugh. Stupid, stubborn Emma. What else had he expected?

Hook rubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted, but he needed to make a plan for tomorrow. He had to bring them back tomorrow, believing or not.

A knock came at the door, and he started. Could it be her? Had she changed her mind? Hook walked to the door and opened it.

The boy was standing there.

"Henry?"

"I heard what you said to my mom," Henry said, out of breath. "And I believe you."

Hook couldn't help himself. He bent down and swooped the boy up into a suffocating hug.

* * *

_Thanks for keeping up with me! I may not have a chance to respond to every review but they are what help keep me going! _


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